


Haunted

by Illusionist



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Politics, S&M, Slow Burn, War, top!steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusionist/pseuds/Illusionist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>( Inspired by the fantastic fanvid Fifty Shades of Grey by of Resave. If you haven't watched it yet, do it now. Seriously. NOW.)</p><p>Amidst all the political plans and schemes in the White House after a wrecking war with Russia, James Buchanan Barnes, the First Boy of the United States, has sworn to walk the straight and narrow path and serve his country.</p><p>An undercover mission gone wrong and an encounter with Captain Steve Rogers, the war hero, has Bucky going down the road of temptation, lies and plots, where nothing is what meets the eye. </p><p> ***A Captain America/Fifty Shades of Grey/Kings/Political Animals Story***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

_"A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Steven Rogers is one of bravery, honor and sacrifice . . ."_

Bucky turned off the TV and threw the remote away with such viciousness that it hit the corner of the kitchen with a bang, batteries falling out like the bowels of a dead solider on the battlefield, but it didn't help him feel the relief he'd been seeking for since last night; if anything, it made him even more frustrated.  

With his feet still on the kitchen table, Bucky leaned his head backwards and sighed, trying to slow the pulse in his right temple where the scar was still healing. The construction workers were still working on the pool outside, the drill working nonstop since early in the morning, taking him back to the previous night, to the tent with his hands cuffed tight and the bag over his head, only able to listen to the sporadic shooting outside...

But what he kept remembering the most was the eyes; those damn startling blue eyes. It was the only insistent image coming back to him over and over again; the look, the focus . . .

Bucky had been _this_ close to starting the war again all by himself. Two years of his father's blood, sweat and tears wasted in a heartbeat because of a simple undercover mission he should have been able to do half asleep. 

It wasn't his fault the over watchers had disappeared on him like they had never existed; the Russian guards weren't supposed to be there, and everything had gone to shit in a blink of an eye. _Everything._ Back in that tent, lying on the wet mud, his only consolation had been that the enemy hadn't realized exactly who he was. An anonymous death was much more glorious than going down in history as James Buchanan Barnes, the stupid First Boy of the Whitehouse who caused the longest war in the 21st century to resume.

 He knew there was going to be no rescue mission. He'd heard the soldiers outside the tent murmur it in Russian. Bucky was no fool; it wasn't worth going over the border and save a soldier when the peace treaty was as fragile as it was, especially since no one in their troop knew who he really was.  Besides, it would be confirmation that United States had been spying on them. He was either going to have a quick death or be questioned and tortured. A bleak outlook, made worse by the fact that he was a hundred percent sure it would blow the peace all to hell, giving the right wing enough excuse to make President Barnes ask for retribution, and start the hell all over again.

Then he had heard the rustle of the tent, quick footsteps coming his way and knew his life was about to end, and the bag was lifted off his head in a swift motion.

And he had seen those eyes . . .

Bucky put his feet off the kitchen table and sat up straight, brought his knees up and rested his elbows on them. He wasn't exactly a newbie West pointer at war. He had served in the 107th for three goddamn years; had seen enough not to be scared off anything anymore, yet there was something about last night he could not shake off. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe it was the head trauma. Whatever the reason, he still couldn't shake the whole thing off, especially that man.

Captain Rogers.

Every time Bucky closed his eyes, that face haunted him, the concern, the focus, the words he had murmured that Bucky couldn't make sense of. Yeah, yeah, everyone knew about Captain Rogers: The man who brought peace to the nation. The hero, the legend. Their platoon didn't even know Rogers was there. Someone had ordered him to be there for a reason. It was all politics, and Bucky knew politics like the back of his hand; from his grandfather to his grandmother to his father, but it wasn't the ploy that was haunting him. It was _him._  What was about that moment that kept coming back to him? Those eyes? The blue of 'em? The touch as the Captain had lifted his numb body and carried it over the border like it was a walk in the park while blowing up a tank?

His ears had been pounding as Captain Rogers had lay him down on dirt and mud, soldiers slowly gathering around under the moonlight, not quite believing what they were seeing.

"You breached a direct order." A black man had said as he knelt beside them, but the captain's eyes were on him, untying his hands with practiced skill as he kept looking at him with a reassuring expression.

"We don't leave our soldiers behind," Captain had replied, voice so still and calm, as though nothing had happened, but Rogers had kept staring at him, and Bucky had forgotten the failed attack, the burning tank, the cold in the air. Everything. He'd just stared back, breathing hard and unable to mutter even a single word.

"Jesus, this is James Barnes." Someone had said next, or at least Bucky remembered someone saying so, and Rogers had kept looking at him with the same intensity, and for the first time, Bucky had felt Rogers' heavy hand on his beating heart, as though commanding it to slow down. . .

"I need a drink," he murmured as he sat up and ran a hand through his face, trying to erase the memory for the umpteenth time and failing again.

Tapping his feet on the floor for a few seconds, Bucky made up his mind. Standing up wasn't easy with his head still reeling and throbbing, but Bucky ignored it and grabbed his hoodie to head out.

The white house was in chaos, preparing for the great night to come, and Bucky felt the headache intensify. Jesus, he wasn't ready to live this life yet.

"The usual?" His driver – Tom? Or was it Timothy? They changed too often for his liking – asked as Bucky walked to the black car. The man stood straight and opened the back door. Bucky nodded and got in.

Partying was one of the few things he was sure he couldn't fuck up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bucky Barnes groaned as the car hit another bump for the tenth time. He was pretty sure Clint, his bodyguard/baby sitter/ trainer and occasional driver, was doing it on purpose just to make the hang over even harder on him. Among the thousand bodyguards Bucky had had in his miserable life in the Whitehouse, Barton was the only one who had put up with his shit. Still, Barton's no-shit, rude-to-your- face attitude made him the most unpopular guard who had ever disgraced the House.

Well, fuck disgrace. Barton was the best bodyguard he'd ever had, even though he was a piece of shit most of the time.

"Your mother expects you to look your best tonight." Bucky turned his head to the right to look at Sharon through his sunglasses. He'd almost forgotten she was there. Looking outside the window and blonde hair covering half of her face, she was the perfect picture of beauty and professionalism. As far as his father's secretaries went, she was a great one; always knowing where to be, what to do, what to say, and more importantly, what not to say. Looking at her face, Bucky decided he could have liked her if she wasn't shagging his father.

"Doesn't she always?"  He muttered as he lolled his head to the other side, staring at the setting sun. His mind kept drifting back to the club. He could still taste strawberry on his lips - too soft and sweet – and the fingers running up and down his arm as the girl had whispered sweet words in his ears, smelling like honey and flowers. He remembered the bartender in the corner of the dim-lit club, mixing drinks together, muscles flexing as he held the glasses. Bucky could bet there was nothing soft or sweet about that strong jaw or his fingers on the cold glasses. Those fingers wouldn't graze softly, they would grab and bruise like Rogers' when he'd grabbed him by the waist to support Bucky who had been standing on shaking legs, the fingers digging in his flesh . . .

"A tailor's waiting for you in your suite. You need a new suit." Sharon's clipped voice brought him back to the car.

Bucky laughed humorlessly "What I really need is a fistful of Advil and forty eight hours of sleep."

"You must be present in the party. Your mother insisted."

"Of course. Can't let the world forget what I did and who _rescued_ me."' If he sounded bitter, nobody called him on it. Even Clint was being uncharacteristically quiet, but Bucky wasn't still satisfied. "I almost lose my life on the line, and somebody else goes on the pedestal. No matter what I do, there is always somebody else to be celebrated for it."

Sharon turned to look at him, some of her perfect mask slipping. "Captain Rogers isn't someone you want to be jealous of."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Am I hallucinating or did Sharon Carter really make a personal remark? Clint?"

"She made a personal remark," was Barton's curt reply. Sharon stayed quiet.

"Miss Carter, you're full of surprises. Wouldn't have taken you to be someone who could develop a crush on the good captain." She went back to looking out the window.

"Anyway, isn't he the perfect candidate to be jealous of? Captain _America_ who saved the nation for the second time." Bucky wasn't even sure why he was acting this way about it.  All he knew was that all his thoughts and emotions had gone haywire during the past twenty four hours and he was too hung-over to act decently about it.

It was almost night when they reached the gate, and his head was back to pounding painfully, the phantom pain back over his scar. He was not looking forward to meeting the man tonight, or ever for that matter.

"It's a private party. Be there at eight sharp." Carter said as Clint opened the door.

Bucky only closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the leather seat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Bucky arrived at the East Room at 8:45, almost everybody was there except the guest of honor. It somehow made him feel relaxed and frustrated both at the same time, and he decided to ignore it. When in doubt, or problem, or anything bad really, drink it away. That method had yet to fail Bucky, and so he made a beeline for the first caterer with a tray, took a glass and sipped gratefully.

 True to Sharon's words, there were no cameras around. Still, it seemed as though everybody was dressed to impress, beautiful women smiling at him as he passed by. He put on his winner smile, took another glass of champagne and leaned on the railway, trying to keep his reeling head under control.

"James, my darling," Bucky smiled as his mother came up to him and kissed him gently on his check. "I can't believe I almost lost you and haven't had the time to properly look at you." He noticed the quiver in her voice and tried to smile more brightly, hiding the hangover he was feeling. If there was one thing he was excellent at, it was pretending like the best of them.

"I promised I wouldn't die Mom, remember?" his mother smiled and humored him with a nod.

Rose hooked her hands around his arm, "Shall we find your father?" Bucky nodded his head and stepped forward. He knew for a fact his mother loved nothing more than watching him be polite and graceful. He decided he could afford an hour of that, then he could go back to his suite and pass out.

"You don't look so bad yourself, putting on a sparkling dress and all." His mother smiled, playfully slapping his arm.

"Captain Rogers is the honorary guest, darling."

His mother's statement annoyed him for reasons he didn't want to analyze, but he kept the smile on his face.

 "Of course, the savior." He sounded nasty and he knew his Mom noticed.

She squeezed his arm gently. "He brought you back to us." Bucky was grateful she left out the 'and saved a nation from a catastrophic war for your foolishness.'

"Ah, there he is." She pointed to the corner of the room where his Father was talking to Alexander Pierce, his uncle, but more importantly the chairman of S.H.I.E.L.D. Rumlow was standing nearby, hovering over the two men and Bucky rolled his eyes, hating the sight of them. Fucking stupid politics and politicians.

He needed a drink. Or two. Maybe a whole bottle.

"You go ahead, Mom. I'll catch up with you later."

"Be careful, darling." She stated, by which she meant she was ordering him to behave and not do anything dramatic or over the top. He refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes, ma'am" he muttered as he parted ways and headed straight to where the drinks were. Yes, getting re-drunk was the best course of action for the evening.

Sitting in a corner with another glass of champagne, he willed himself not to try to spot that familiar face in the crowd. It was pathetic really, the grudge he was feeling towards the man who, everything aside, had save him and the nation. Maybe if Rogers had acted smug and boastful, maybe if he had asked the Whitehouse for some favors, Bucky would have felt better about it, but no, not the good captain, all glorious and humble about it, and add his confused feelings to the whole deal, it was a recipe fo-

"Well, isn't that the handsome First Boy of America."

Bucky looked up, watching as Tony Stark sat in front of him like he belonged there, his spicy cologne filling Bucky's nostrils. Bucky grinned for the first time in two days feeling like himself as he leaned back.

"Well, isn't that the Democratic Presidential Candidate, looking for the first chance to ruin the party."

Tony raised his glass and clinked it with Bucky's.

"Damn right I am. All these republicans everywhere are ruining my appetite." Bucky snorted as Tony rolled his eyes and came to sit closer to him, their arms almost touching. Tony never had any regard for personal space.

Even though both Starks and Barnes were very old family friends, Bucky's father had always hated the sight of him; most probably because Tony had decided to break all traditions and become a candidate for democrats, making an enemy of pretty much every family friend he had and enjoying every second of it. _"That blasphemous prick, making his father shiver in the grave, the man who gave his life for this country. Tony should have been assassinated instead."_ Bucky remembered his father saying furiously as he read about Tony's candidacy against himself, and grinned despite himself.

God, he liked Tony.

Well, his liking had little to do with politics and more with the fact that the first time they set eyes on each other in Junior high, they both decided to teach their pretentious history teacher a lesson by dropping a balloon of paint on his precious Cadillac.

 Good friends ever since.

Tony began to rattle on about the demerits of republicans – nothing Bucky hadn't heard a thousand times before – and he let his eyes wander back to the elegant crowd, somehow dreading and looking forward to finding that face with that set jaw and determined eyes. If he –

"Three o-clock." He was startled by a slap to his arm. He gave Tony a startled look.

 "What?"

"Three o'clock," Tony enunciated, as though he was talking to a child. Bucky turned his head to the direction only to see a young man he had never seen before leaning on the wall, looking shy and out of place.

"I would totally tap that," Tony continued, and the smile slipped off Bucky's face.

"Tony," he warned.

"He looks totally ready to be corrupted. What? What's with the look? Ohhh, I had forgotten, you've turned straight." Tony leaned back, looking as displeased as he possibly could. Bucky sighed and broke the eye contact. "How about we don't talk about this?" Barnes offered.

"How about we do?" Tony countered as he sat forward, resting elbows on the table and invading Bucky's personal space again, the passion in his eyes calling for trouble.

"It's 2016, and you're on top of the food chain. You can have anyone you want, and yet, you have stupidly decided to go straight – if such a thing is actually possible - to please your father who is so far on the wrong side I can't even see him anymore." Tony finished his speech with a huff and Bucky leaned back, feeling the headache coming back full-force. Beckoning the caterer closer, he intentionally ignored Tony as the older man murmured what a great ass the great caterer had.

"It's more complicated than that and you know it, so why don't you just drop it?" Bucky hissed after downing the fourth – fifth? – glass.

"Please, I've seen you getting it on with too many boys in our high school to believe for a second you can turn straight. You even hooked up with the governor's son. Stop looking so annoyed, Barnes. You could be the hottest guy on the magazines right now."

Bucky gave him a look

Tony continued, "Well, you kind of are, after me of course, but for the wrong audience. The attention you could be getting is –"

"Gee, Tony. If I didn't know you any better, I would think you wanna get something out of this."

"Barnes, this is the Whitehouse. Of course I want something from you; President Barnes' only son Gay _and_ with the democrats? Can't ask for a more beautiful scandal, but think about it, you're being used anyway. Why not be on a side where you can actually enjoy it?"

Bucky only rolled his eyes, not even remotely surprised by Tony's idiotic honesty.

Judging by how the murmurs and hushes were increasing on the other side of the room, he could guess the Captain had finally arrived, and Bucky suddenly found it hard to swallow. The man really was here.

"He's here. Fantastic," he heard Tony mutter sarcastically and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"You don't like him?" Bucky asked Tony with disbelief, feeling as though the night was finally beginning to get good. "You're literally the only person who hasn't shown interest in worshipping him."

Tony snorted. "Are you out of your mind? Goody-two-shoes Captain America, saving the President's son from the hands of the enemy – like I don't know you were spying there, but let's stay on topic now – and saving the nation with his heroic deeds and bravery. Barnes and Pierce are gonna milk this, and bloody hell, he's got the figure and face to go with it. They've literally got a Messiah on their side." Tony stopped, seemingly in thought. "If only I could have you on my side. . . "

Bucky sighed again, momentarily forgetting Rogers' presence in the room. "Tony . . ."

"What? All it takes for you is just to stand up and kiss the first good looking boy you can find. Would it be so bad? You know what? I can kiss you if you think that makes things easier for you."

Bucky snorted. "First of all you're married."

"You can't honestly tell me you believe in the sanctity of marriage after seeing so much shit around here," Tony interrupted.

Bucky ignored him. "Second, you don't swing that way. Third, I don't find you appealing at all. You suck"

Tony pouted. "But you have such kissable lips."

Bucky laughed despite himself, and Tony smirked. "You remember the boy who told you that? The one who punched you then kissed you? Even the god-damn school bully was into you. I –" tony trailed off for a second before looking at Bucky as though he had received a revelation. "Wait a moment; maybe I have it all wrong, introducing all the innocent lambs. You were always into big, bad and crazy." Tony slapped his forehead. "Of course you are! What with the daddy issues and all. You're into crazy. That's fantastic. We're in the right place. Whitehouse is literally a Looney bin. I know a guy who –"

"Stop." Buck frowned. This wasn't funny anymore.

"I'm right, aren't I? Jesus, how co-"

"Stop annoying the First Boy." It was Pepper, coming towards them with a smile. Bucky stood up to greet her, immensely grateful for the distraction. Pepper scowled at Tony before accepting the kisses on the cheek, first from Tony, then from him.

"Don't listen to him, James. I'm sure he's wrong about everything he's suggesting." Bucky only smiled at her. He wasn't so sure.

"Aren't you supposed to greet the captain?" She asked Stark with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"No, I'm not even remotely interested."

"That's extremely rude and uncalled for."

"Oh, please. Like I don't know why you're asking me." Tony turned his head towards Bucky. "Even my own wife has a crush on Captain Perfect. God, I wanna punch him in his handsome face."

"Tony!" Pepper hissed before looking around to make sure no one had heard him say it.

"What? Even Buchanan here doesn't like him!" He defended himself.

"Of course that's not true. From what I've heard, he's a very likable man." Pepper turned to look at him with wide eyes, and Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine. God damn Tony.

"I never said that!" This wasn't something he felt comfortable talking about with anyone. Ever, and it wasn't like he didn't like Rogers. That would be ridiculous. He honestly didn't know how he felt towards the man. Why was he feeling anything for him in the first place? All he knew was that the previous night had fucked up something in his brain.

"Well, Buchanan, whatever you're feeling towards the man, you better sort it out real quick, because he's looking your way," Stark stated and Bucky's head snapped up. Yes, Rogers was looking at him from the other side of the room, a smile on his lips but his eyes were unreadable. There were people surrounding him; most of whom Bucky already knew, but it didn't seem as though Rogers was nervous about anything; he seemed to be born to be the center of attention.

That used to be Bucky's place.

He stood up, intending to greet the man and put everything behind him, but his legs seemed to think of their own and he descended down the stairs fast, almost stumbling into a girl in a blue dress and took a deep breath, well aware that he had pretty much ran away.

"Ah, there you are." Bucky plastered a smile on his face as his mother came towards him, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his suit to hide the shaking fingers.

She took his arm. "This party is getting too boring." Which was her way of saying she had plans. "Why don't you play something for us so we can start dancing?"

Playing the piano. . . Okay, yeah he was cool with that.

 "Anything for you, Mom," he replied. She only gave him a half smile and ushered him towards the grand piano in the corner. Sitting on the bench, Bucky oddly felt calm and collected. This was familiar. This was nice. Racking up his brain for a good piece for a dance, he heard his mother call everybody's attention. It went downhill when she called Rogers' name and looked up with a smile, hands out stretched to point to the Captain.

"As Captain Rogers is the guest of honor, it is only fitting that he starts the dance. Captain, will you do us the honor?" All eyes were on him, and, of course, the man gave his perfect smile, nodded his head and headed downstairs.

Rogers dancing with his mother. Well, worse things could happen he supposed.

And he was proved right when he saw Rogers taking Sharon's hand and leading her to the middle of the ballroom while everybody waited for Bucky to start the music.

And Bucky did, but there was a whirlwind inside his head. Sharon was intelligent, beautiful and knew people in the right places. This really didn't surprise Bucky. What surprised – and by that he meant upset – him was the familiarity they were sharing, waltzing in step and smiling at each other only in the way friends, or lovers, did. They looked beautiful together.

Bucky missed a note.

But everybody was too busy staring at the couple to notice the hiccup. The tremble came back to his fingers, but the piece was over, and now other couples were stepping in, his parents and Tony and Pepper among them. The second piece was easier to play, and Bucky absolutely refused to look up to check if Captain was among them. It was ridiculous, but somehow he felt cheated, as though having his ass saved by the man was somehow an intimate experience. Bucky was infamous for leaving people after sex. He knew how bullshit intimacy was, yet his blood boiled every time the image of Rogers and Carter came to his mind. So, he drank another glass and continued to play long after people had stopped dancing and were gathered in pairs and groups to gossip and scheme.

The bench creaked beside him, and Bucky turned his head to watch Alexander Pierce sit beside him, but he didn't stop playing. He was too drunk to be annoyed by his presence.

"You look fine, considering you almost died last night." His uncle said matter-of-factly, not looking at Bucky, eyes glued somewhere at the corner. Bucky didn't look up to check.

"All thanks to Captain Rogers," Bucky muttered, too drunk to be able to filter his words, which was worrying, considering talking with Alexander Pierce always came with a price.

"Oh yes, the hero who saved the President's darling son."

Bucky made a noncommittal sound, and changed the tune to something more low beat.

"He probably deserves everything under the sun." His uncle was probably hinting at something, but Bucky was too tired to get it, so Pierce went straight down to business.

"You know how much I wanted you to be a member of S.H.I.E.L.D since day one. I even stood up in congress for you. It was your father who disagreed with the prospect for some . . . unknown reason."

By unknown, his uncle meant because Bucky was gay and his father preferred to die rather than have his queer son have any position of power. He knew it, and Pierce knew it, but they both knew better than to bring it up, which suited Bucky just fine.

"Yes, he did. He also rejected three other job prospects before I joined the army behind his back, got captured and almost died."

Pierce laughed. "Of course, James. You were always an attention seeker, even if it meant endangering the security of a nation to get it."

Bucky stopped playing. "You think I did it on purpose?" He asked indignantly, giving his uncle an incredulous look.

Pierce ignored the question. "Look to your right. Rogers is with your father right now, and Barnes is offering him to be the press secretary of S.H.I.E.L.D, the one you were after for two years. You can be certain Captain will take it."

Bucky rubbed his eyes. "Why are you telling me this, Uncle?"

Pierce laughed again. "You're my nephew. Aside from that, I know you deserve that job. You know politics, you have the experience, you were born to be in front of the camera, and you're sitting here playing the piano while another man is getting it for free."

"But he's not any man. He's Captain America. No one's more deserving than him." Bitterness crept back in his voice and he stretched his hand to get his glass, but his Uncle took it from him. "When you're done being childish and drunk, let me know." He whispered as he stood up, walking away with Rumlow behind his back. Bucky almost flinched at the sight.

He didn't feel like playing anymore, but didn't feel like moving either. He could feel his mother's worried eyes on him. She knew her brother well; knew whatever conversation they had had could have riled Bucky up, but he was too frustrated to look up and reassure her, pretty much because she was rightfully worried. Tony's eye were on him too, probably following his every move to see what was going to happen, and Bucky felt something snap in his brain. Everybody was waiting for him to screw up? Fine, he was going to do just that.

Standing up, he contemplated drinking another glass before giving up on the idea and walking to where Rogers and his father were talking together. Screw jobs and politics. Screw all expectation. He was done. Done.

Now fucking up was something he could excel at. Everyone was waiting for him to make a wrong move? Fine, he was gonna fuck up so bad, everyone was gonna talk about it for days.

Walking towards them, he wasn't sure if they noticed him approaching or not, but neither stopped speaking.

"You saved my son's life. That means I owe you mine. Just tell me what you want and it's yours."

Bucky stood dead in his tracks, his mouth suddenly dry and whole body numb. Rogers could ask for anything, _anything_ , and it would be his. No doubt about it.

"Follow, Sir. That's all I want," Rogers said calmly as he turned his head and looked at Bucky in the eyes. Bucky stood stupefied, somehow feeling that sentence was meant for him.

His father turned his head then and noticed him standing a foot away. "We'll talk about this later." He ordered Rogers and walked up to Bucky, eyes serious. He stopped as their shoulders touched, his back to the Captain, making sure Rogers couldn't hear. Leaning his head close to Bucky's ear he said, "Celebrate, son. It's what your good at." He paused for a second, "But behave." He stood straight then, put on a professional smile and walked away with long strides, as though he didn't want to be seen with his son for too long.

Oh, he was going to behave alright.

Rogers was still looking at him. Bucky didn't back away this time. He was going to show him exactly what a mistake he had made by saving him. His winner smile was back in place as he walked closer, eyes glued to those blue orbs.

"It must be hard, having to answer to everybody," was what Rogers said as they stood only a few inches apart.

Okay, Bucky could work with it. He was going to kill it. Biting his lower lip, he tried his best seductive face. "I answer to you, Sir." He looked down then, breaking eye contact and looking shy.

"You look beautiful," was the immediate reply.

"Sir?" Bucky's head snapped up, feeling his heart stop beating. Had he heard right? Or was he too drunk for this? The captain's smile was as polite as always, but his eyes were sparkling.

Rogers inched closer. "And you play beautifully."

Okay, Rogers just beat his ass in his own game. There was a high probability he was hallucinating the whole thing. It just dawned on him that he knew practically nothing about the man a few inches apart from him, eyes as determined as ever, and felt at a loss for words, something that had never happened to him before.

Rogers rested a hand on Bucky's back and pointed at the glass Balcony doors with his head. "Shall we go outside?"

Bucky nodded his head, feeling the hand on his back as they both moved outside, away from prying eyes. If anything, this had to make things easier for him, flirting with the American hero, but somehow, instead of offending the Captain, it turned out he had amused him, if that smile was anything to go by.

Standing next to the silver railings under the clear sky, Bucky tried to clear his head. Somehow, it felt like the rug had been pulled from under his feet and he couldn't find his footing again. It was almost impossible to believe that the night before he had been held hostage in enemy territory, about to be tortured and killed.

"I'm glad that you're alive." Captain Rogers said, apparently thinking about the same thing.

"Thanks to you, Sir," There was no sarcasm in it like he had intended it to. Instead it came out as meek and sincere, and he had to look away.

Rogers didn't acknowledge or refuse the expression of gratitude. They stood silent for a while, Bucky trying to come up with something to say and failing every time; he was surprised when the Captain raised a hand and asked "May I?" before touching the still healing scar on Bucky's face. It was electrifying, but Bucky didn't move, only stared at the man's face as Rogers slowly moved his fingers along the scar. He dropped his hand then, and Bucky thought Rogers was going to walk away, but instead he grabbed one of Bucky's hands in both his own and raised the sleeve skillfully, revealing the red marks the ropes had left behind the night before.

Rogers touched them gingerly, and Bucky, for reasons he could not understand, felt branded, as though he was on fire. He didn't dare look at those fingers and looked at Rogers' face who, disbelievingly enough, had a guilty expression on his face, as though he had been the one who'd done this to Bucky.

He wanted to raise his free hand and grab at the Captain for support, or maybe just to touch to make sure this was real, but he couldn't move even a single muscle.

"Captain?" Bucky heard Sharon's voice from the door away and stepped backwards fast, feeling his heart rate increase for reasons he couldn't understand. He didn't dare look at either of them. Muttering a hasty "excuse me," He almost bolted out of the balcony, ignored his mother and Tony on the way, and made his way to the stairs then to his suite. Running to the toilet, he emptied the content of his stomach twice before resting his burning forehead on the rim and moaning.

The walk to his bed took way longer than necessary, but he finally made it and fell on it face forward.

"If you miss the dinner, your mother will kill you, then me." It was Barton's voice coming from the corner. Bucky hadn't even noticed being followed.

"Umphh," he only muttered in the pillow and closed his eyes. He could still feel Rogers' touch on his wrist when the world went dark.

 

**To Be Continued . . .**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( Inspired by the fantastic fanvid Fifty Shades of Grey by of Resave. If you haven't watched it yet, do it now. Seriously. NOW.)
> 
> Amidst all the political plans and schemes in the White House after a wrecking war with Russia, James Buchanan Barnes, the First Boy of the United States, has sworn to walk the straight and narrow path and serve his country.
> 
> An undercover mission gone wrong and an encounter with Captain Steve Rogers, the war hero, has Bucky going down the road of temptation, lies and plots, where nothing is what meets the eye.
> 
> ***A Captain America/Fifty Shades of Grey/Kings/Political Animals Story***

 

Clint pretty much had to drag Bucky to the kitchen for the traditional family breakfast which was always held on Sunday mornings.  Bucky never liked them to begin with, and now with his mother's rage and father's disappointed looks looming over him, he outright dreaded setting foot there, but just like everything else in the bloody household, there was no getting out of it.

"What are you smiling at?" He grumbled at Clint who was walking next to him, but Barton only shrugged and refused to answer, God damn bastard. The problem was Bucky knew exactly what the reason was and felt himself turn red in anger and misplaced shame.

Only an hour ago, Bucky had woken up with a killer headache and a churning stomach. He actually could not remember the last time he had felt this bad, and had to rack his brain for a few minutes to remember what had happened the previous night; then, he'd suddenly been hit by a tsunami of input: The enemy line, captured, Pierce, Stark, the party, Rogers, Rogers, Rogers.

_You look beautiful . . ._

And then he had realized he'd been sporting a raging hard one, a common phenomenon, but not when his mind and body were filled with thoughts and emotions he couldn't completely understand yet, not with the memory of the previous night so fresh in his mind . . .

"Good morning, Sunshine." Barton had said as loudly and brightly as he could, turning his usual annoyance up a notch, and had walked in with a new set of clothes, announcing Bucky's schedule of the day, proudly informing him that he had missed the interview he was supposed to be in along with his father and Captain Rogers, then had smugly turned on the TV on NBC channel, where they were broadcasting the interview live. Thankfully the sound was on mute, but the image alone was enough to bring all the messed up emotions full force; Captain Rogers looking lively and strong in his army uniform, giving his winner smile to the cameras, standing next to the President of United States, nothing like the man who had full on flirted with him the previous night and exactly that man at the same time.

 God damn it all.

He'd used pretty much every trick to get out of the family breakfast – needing some space, and more importantly a thorough wank - but Clint was too smart and knew him well enough to use the tricks of his own to have him showered – a very, very cold one - and dressed, but not in a suit. He hated suits, mostly to piss his father off - and then he'd made him walk stiffly to the kitchen. Somehow during the whole tormenting time, Clint had used every flimsy excuse to bring Captain Rogers up;watching Bucky's reactions with immense satisfaction, and it had irritated Bucky more than he had liked to admit. As far as the world was concerned, Bucky was as straight as an arrow, but then again it had always been Clint Barton driving him to parties with the boys and covering up for him, so Bucky really hadn't been able to say anything except to seethe in silence.

And now that they were at the kitchen, he felt his stomach churn again, the smell of eggs and bacon not helping. The only positive side of the whole thing was that life seemed to be going back to its normal shitty style. No more confusion.

"James Buchanan Barnes," his mother stated as loudly as she could when Bucky entered, and he almost turned to walk out.

"Oh, no you're not getting out of this one easily," She said as she strode towards him and grabbed his arm, turning him around so he had to fully face her. Bucky flinched, knowing he was about to get one hell of a lecture. Clint only nodded his head before turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

"I can't believe you just walked out like that! So rude! So . . . ah! I'm so glad your grandmother's not here, or you would never hear the end of it." Bucky tried to go for an apologetic smile, but she wasn't fooled. "Absent for dinner! In front of Captain Rogers! Your Father was so furious." Bucky kept on smiling, hoping it would finally work.

She took a deep breath and released his arm, so she could keep on rambling. "And missing the interview. Lord, what is the public going to think? Hmm? They'll either think we have made the whole story up which will damage your father's reputation, or they'll think you're ungrateful, which will damage your father's reputation. What were you thinking?"

Bucky stepped backwards, forehead creasing as he frowned. "Oh, so that's what it's all about. Father's reputation," he almost spat the words out.

His mother gasped as though she had received a blow and then crushed him in a painful embrace, clutching at him for dear life.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," she whispered in his ear, and Bucky felt his shoulder get damp with tears as she clutched at him harder.

"Sorry, Mom," Bucky apologized, not even sure what he was exactly apologizing for, but he could feel tears gather in his own eyes and had to shut them tightly and burrow his head in his mother's short blonde hair to stop them from falling. Men didn't cry around here.

"Well, isn't that a beautiful sight?" His father stated as he walked inside the kitchen, looking sharp and alert. Bucky stepped backwards, turning his face away to wipe the tears before turning to his father. Surprisingly enough, he seemed to be in a good mood.

Rose was back to her normal self, smiling and pointing to the ready table. "Shall we begin?" She asked her husband who was picking up a green apple from the bowl.

"Of course," the President stated, rolling the apple in his hands, "but since this year seems to be the year of firsts, let's break tradition." Bucky rolled his eyes as he walked towards the table, knowing full well he was talking about Tony's candidacy and Bucky disobeying him and joining the army. His failure at completing the mission, at least, wasn't considered as a first in his Father's eyes.

"I've brought a guest," Barnes announced, and Bucky stood still, dreading where it was going.

"Steven," The president called out, and sure enough, Rogers walked in, still in his uniform and looking as sharp as Bucky's father, hair shining gold as he took off his cap to smooth the blonde locks over and the thousand dollar smile on his lips.

His father was on the first name basis with him already? Fuck.

"Good morning," the Captain said, inclining his head towards Rose.

"What a pleasant surprise," she exclaimed and walked towards him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "A wonderful way of breaking tradition if I may say."

Bucky stood motionless, knowing it was his turn to say something, but not knowing what to say. As predicted, all heads turned towards him.

"Sir," Bucky finally managed to say, the expression reminding him of the previous night, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Lieutenant Barnes," the Captain replied, and it took Bucky some time to realize he'd been addressed and he'd forgotten to salute, but Captain seemed as amused as he'd been last night.

"I think I'm not hungry," Bucky said after a long, painful silence, trying to get himself out of the situation.

His mother opened his mouth, no doubt for a sharp reprimand, but his father beat her to it, "Captain's not here for breakfast."

Bucky clenched his teeth and refused to look at his father. 'Why the fuck is he here then?' he wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut. Rogers had moved in closer, and Bucky stood straight, as though bracing himself for a fight, but he refused to look at the Captain in the eye, finding the white tiles immensely interesting.

"I asked the Captain what he wanted last night; told him he could have anything he wanted." The president put the apple down on the table and walked to _Steven_ , resting a hand on his shoulder. "He asked for a tour in the Whitehouse," he paused then and look at Bucky, an unreadable expression on his face, "with James."

Bucky blinked a couple of times, waiting for someone to crack a smile at the joke, but his father seemed to be serious. Captain Rogers was still looking at him, the corner of his lips twitched up.

"Since you're not hungry, you might as well start the tour," Barnes stated as he sat at the table, not looking at him anymore, turning to Rogers instead to make more small talk.

"I'll ask Clint to cancel all your plans for today." Rose said after an uncomfortable stretch of silence, walked towards Bucky and implicitly pushed him to the corner of the kitchen to whisper in his ear, "what has gotten into you, James?"

Bucky honestly had no idea.

"This . . . is very important to your father," she continued in a hushed tone, looking over her shoulder to make sure Rogers and Barnes were still in conversation. "Captain Rogers could be the making or breaking of your Father's winning the upcoming elections. . . "

Bucky was only half listening, eyes glued to the Captain and his father, still not sure what was happening.

" . . .do your best." His mother finished, and Bucky absent mindedly nodded his head.  "Go on then." She nudged him, and he cleared his throat.

"Ready Sir?" Bucky asked after clearing his throat.

Rogers turned towards him. "Whenever you are."

"This way then." Bucky pointed to the backdoor, and waited for the Captain to head out first before going himself, not daring to turn his head and look at his parents' expressions.

It was still early and the house was more or less quiet, their steps echoing through the hallway. Bucky could see Captain Rogers walking by his side from the corner of his eye but didn't want to look at him to face the situation. Of all the things he could have wanted, a mansion, a car, a high position . . . Bucky was still waiting for this to turn out to be a stupid joke, but nothing happened, and Bucky stopped in the middle of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he faced the blonde man.

"I'm not good at this, . . . this giving tours to my . . .  superiors." Bucky finally said, voice hitching at the last word.

"I know," The captain replied, the amused smile still on his lips. Bucky wanted to ask why the hell he'd asked for it then, but he dreaded to know the answer, half out of fear, half out of excitement, so he kept his mouth shut.

If it had been any other person, Bucky would have flirted the hell out of them. Flirting was second nature to him, but there was something about this whole situation that rendered him speechless and nervous every time.

Who was Bucky kidding though? He knew exactly what the problem was. He owed this man his life, literary, and he was not used to owning anyone anything. It had always been the other way around. People came to him for favors. One way or another, it was Bucky was always on top of everything. A part of him wanted to forget this; put the whole nightmare behind him and be done with it, but it just came coming back to him, and so Bucky gritted his teeth, deciding to go with the flow, letting whatever wanted to happen, happen.

"Why are we here then?" Bucky finally asked, his curiosity winning over.

The Captain's smile turned into a smirk, as though he thought Bucky already knew the answer, but the answer Bucky knew was entirely ridiculous. Why would Captain _America_ want to spend time with the spoiled First Boy who had almost wasted the blood of all those soldiers who had fought to bring the peace?

Unless Rogers was also feeling what Bucky had been feeling in the past two days, but that was even more ridiculous.

"How do you normally spend your Sundays?" Rogers asked instead, and Bucky raised his eyebrows, finding himself smiling back.

"Traditional breakfast that you successfully interrupted, a little bit of sparring practice with Barton and wild partying all night." Bucky grinned as he mentioned the last part, knowing full well his reputation preceded him. He wanted to know how much the Captain knew about him, but Rogers' expression remained unreadable.

"Sparring, huh?" Rogers asked with a raised eyebrow, the mirth back in his eyes.

"Yeah, but since I'm supposed to give you a tour, all my plans are cancelled."

"I'm sure I can give up to your expectations as a sparring partner," Rogers replied.

This was a bad idea. Bucky didn't have to think hard about it to know that, but a part of him was buzzing with excitement with the prospect. Could Captain Rogers be . . . no, that was impossible. Bucky had been cockblocked for too long, and he'd finally gone insane. That was the only explanation, but since he'd always enjoyed flirting with disaster, he only smiled in reply, giving captain a nod as he said, "this way then, Captain."

"Wow, impressive," was the first thing Rogers said as they entered the training room. Bucky couldn't disagree. Ironically enough, it had been the first thing Clint had said when he set foot in the training room.

All the gears were stocked in a shelf in the corner, and Bucky pointed to it before walking up and taking the blue gloves and headgear for himself. He turned around to hand in the red gear to the Captain only to see Rogers taking off his cap and loosening his tie. This was a bad, bad idea. Bucky busied himself with putting on the headgear, trying to will his brain to focus on the sparring that was about to happen, and not the gorgeous body that was begging to be touched, but his mind was not ready, nor was his body. Clint would be so disappointed in him.

 Bucky could get himself out of this; claim that he was injured from the whole hostage thing, but he was no coward; he was going to do this even if it meant –

Jesus, Rogers was taking off his uniform _and_ wife beater, displaying his rather magnificent taut stomach, chest and broad shoulders and Bucky froze. The Captain had the audacity to wink at him as he walked on the mat, warming up his arms and legs and looking at ease, not aware of the turmoil that was happening inside the First Boy. If he was aware of it, he was acting pretty nonchalant about it.

"Care to join, soldier?"

_'Brace yourself, Barnes. You're good at this, beat the shit out of him, and get this whole god damn whatever it is over with_ ,' he thought as he nodded his head and grinned. Stepping into the mat right in front of the Captain, he saluted "Yes, Captain."

"Call me, Steve," Rogers, well, Steve, said as they fist bumped.

"Bucky," Bucky replied, feeling the adrenaline rush into his veins.

"Bucky," Steve repeated the name, as though trying to see how the name tasted on his tongue. Judging by the smile, he liked it. "Ready to have your ass kicked?"

"If you can."

The first few punches were experimental, none of them ready to really get into it yet, and Bucky was mostly distracted by Steve's stance, with the ease he moved, his guard, his moving feet, so distracted that he didn't see the first blow coming at him, hitting him right at his chest and making him stumble backwards a step.

"Pay attention," The blonde man said, voice amused, seemingly aware of what was going through Bucky's mind. Bucky prayed to all the gods above he was mistaken about that, yet another part of him wanted the Captain to know what exactly he'd been thinking. He was crazy like that.

The first minutes seemed more like a slow dance rather than a fight, each of them trying to get a feel of the other, find each other's weaknesses. Steve was taller and larger. He was also fast and could land heavy punches if he really wanted to, but Bucky wasn't so bad either, and he could hold up his own when the real punches began, even landing a few on Rogers before things started to get real heavy, none of them wanting to hold back anymore.

It was the first time Bucky was feeling like himself after the whole fiasco; chest heaving and body straining with the effort, sore in places he'd been hit, and he was enjoying every moment of it, especially with Steve in front of him, who seemed to be going through the same thing, chest and arms glistening with sweat and muscles pulled tight.

God he was beautiful.

The moment of distraction was enough for the Captain to sock Bucky in the jaw. Bucky's head whipped to the right from the blow and he grunted from the unexpected pain that started from the point of the impact and made half of his face warm up. He looked up to see Captain smirking, gesturing a 'come hither' at him.

Clint always told him to keep his cool in moments like this, but he wanted that smirk gone and attacked without thought but wasn't really surprised when the captain caught his arm, twisting it from the shoulder, kneed him on the back, made Bucky fall down face forwards, his face hitting the mat as Steve came down on him, his full body weight pinning him down, his arm still caught and one leg trapped between the Captain's strong thighs, and Bucky had no other choice but to tap out.

The Captain let go of his arm and Bucky grunted again, damn sure his shoulder was going to ache and bruise for a week, but Rogers didn't go immediately. Bucky could feel the hot breaths tickling the back of his wet neck, and stomach muscles moving on his back with every heavy breath; those thighs still trapping his leg, and it felt good, just the way Bucky wanted, and his body –wired since the capture and filled with hormones – began to react, he went still, immensely grateful that he was lying on his stomach and was able to hide the bulge that he was beginning to sport.

Rogers let go then and stood up, offering his hand to Bucky and he had no choice but to take it, the touch making spikes flare from his arm to his brain. Steve didn't let go of his hand, and Bucky hesitated before looking up, looking into the blue eyes, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Steve Rogers knew exactly what was happening; knew exactly what Bucky was feeling and thinking and he had to let go of the hand.

"I'm taking a shower," he murmured before stepping off the mat, throwing the gears to a corner to get out of there as fast as he could.

"He was always a sore loser," He heard Clint address the Captain from a corner and cursed under his breath. That bastard had been watching the whole time, but he couldn't deal with that right now. Truth be told, Bucky felt as though he couldn't deal with any of this ever.

Choosing the second stall from the left, Bucky stepped in and turned on the taps, glad for the privacy the small place offered.

His body was slowly coming down from the high, and he could already feel the pain in the right side of his face and his left shoulder, reminding him painfully of what had just happened.

His mother's words in the kitchen kept echoing in his mind, and he rested his forehead on the tiles, shutting his eyes as the drops hit his head and back. Fantastic job he'd done so fare: blowing up his cover as straight and getting a boner for the supposedly poster boy of the republicans. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

But it wasn't all him, was it? He'd seen the interest in Steve's eyes. Bucky was cocky, yes, but never delusional. Why else would Rogers want to spend time with him? Why else would he call him beautiful? Unless he had some political agenda and wanted to use him, but Bucky was good at reading people, having lived with phonies all his life, and Rogers wasn't one of them, or was he? Even if that was the case, Bucky had sworn to lay off men, so it really shouldn't have made any difference, but somehow it had.

His cock was at full attention under the hot water, but Bucky refused to touch it and gripped the hot pipe instead, letting the burn of it distract him. That was when he heard the door next to his booth open and close and the water start running. He knew it was Steve Rogers, naked with water dropping down his body and had to close his eyes and clench the pipes even harder.

Everything kept replaying in his mind over and over again, the tent, the exploded tank, his scars . . . _'you look beautiful_.' - words uttered with such careless ease - the pain in his Shoulder, and Bucky knew he had to do something about this. He had to do something about the turmoil inside of him or it would haunt him forever.

He turned off the taps, took a deep breath and walked out of the shower, the air hitting his wet skin and making him shiver. The way he saw it, things couldn't get any worse than they already were.

The water was still running in the other shower, and he rested his hand on the door knob for a second before shoving the door open. It was an impulsive action, he knew it, but he was too consumed with anticipation to actually think anything over.

Captain's back was to him, skin red with the steam and droplets falling down his broad back almost artistically. He turned around then and locked eyes with Bucky. Bucky didn't back away this time. Shockingly enough, Rogers didn't seem surprised to see him at all, as though he'd been expecting Bucky to turn up at the door naked and aroused. He looked different, hair a few shades darker now that it was wet.

Bucky faltered before steeling himself again. It was too late to back off now. So he walked in, feet almost slipping on the wet floor and closed the door, all the while not breaking the eye contact. Roger's face was unreadable again, but Bucky moved forward anyway, braced his hands on the Captain's shoulders, which was wonderfully wet and warm, and slapped his cold lips to Rogers'. There was no reaction for the first few seconds, but then the blonde raised his hands, cupped the back of Bucky's neck and kissed back with the same vigor. Bucky opened his mouth in surprise and was stunned by a tongue being shoved inside his. It wasn't a romantic kiss, mostly hard and frustrated, but strangely intimate too, and Bucky let his hands slip down and grab the arms he'd been ogling since the morning, the muscles strong and unyielding under his fingertips.

He was pushed to the wet wall and had to hiss at the cold as his back made contact. Rogers closed the tap off, and Bucky had to suppress a shiver.

The second kiss was slower and warmer, and somehow even more consuming. Throughout his life, he had never felt like this before. No, he wasn't one to romanticize anything, but it was the first time he had encountered so many things all at once and had to bottle them all up in himself, and now that the relief was here, it felt better than any orgasm he'd ever had in his entire life, making his limbs tremble and his knees buckle as he grabbed the arms, hard enough to bruise while their lips grazed repeatedly.

When the kiss was over, he felt as though life had been sucked out of him. He had to swallow and breathe before he could look up, trying to fully understand what he had just done. Well, his body had certainly enjoyed everything, and from the way Rogers' hard on was touching his right thigh, it had been the same for him, too, but his eyes were still unreadable, and Bucky had to brace himself harder not to fall down.

Rogers stepped back to put some distance between them. Bucky shivered again, and it wasn't just from the cold. It was doubt that was creeping up and down his vein, making him want to run away and claw at the man in front of him both at the same time. He wasn't used to this; wasn't used to wanting someone this bad and being scared of it this much.

Steve didn't leave though. He stayed unmoving for a few seconds before letting out a puff of laughter and shaking his head at some inner thought, the movement almost self-deprecating.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Rogers almost whispered. It was the first time Bucky was seeing him unsure, and it made him unnaturally nervous, but the moment was gone as soon as it had started, and Rogers' eyes were intense again, looking at him as though he could see Bucky's soul.

He raised a hand then, hair standing on his arm and touched the side of Bucky's face where he'd been socked, the touch reminiscent of the previous night and oddly intimate.

Bucky raised his arm to touch the broad chest but was stopped when the Captain took his wrist and stopped the movement. Bucky looked at him with a raised eyebrow, body temperature slowly leveling with the shower.

Steve stepped close again, but their skins weren't still touching, though both were aroused. "I know you'd be trouble the first time I saw you in that tent with your hands tied above your head." Rogers leaned down and whispered in his ear. "The way you were panting, scared and not able to move," he continued, and Bucky could feel the tip of Rogers' cock touching his thigh again.

"And your eyes always seem so defiant, always ready to rebel at everything." Steve moved back to look at him again, and Bucky realized that he was right; Bucky _was_ looking at Rogers defiantly, challenging him to make a move, to do _something._

It was ridiculous how much Bucky was craving another kiss, and the delay was making him even hungrier, making his whole body tingle with anticipation, but Steve wasn't making a move, and Bucky was too stubborn to do anything, looking at the Captain with defiant eyes and a set jaw, even though his fingertips were tingling to touch more, a part of him still not believing that this was happening.

The fingers caressing his cheek trailed down and Rogers cupped his neck again but didn't bring his head closer for a kiss; he stayed immobile, only looking at Bucky patiently.

Bucky bit his lower lips once, twice before deciding to go for the kiss himself, but Rogers turned his head and the kiss landed on his cheek. Bucky didn't give up and started to trail kisses up and down the smooth cheek before moving to the neck, licking and sucking the wet dribbles enthusiastically. Rogers tasted so good, like a forbidden fruit that made him want the captain even more.

The Captain let go of his wrist and Bucky rested his now free hand on his broad chest before trailing his other hand down, letting himself touch that well-toned thigh, staying as close to the hard on as he could without touching it. From the way Rogers was breathing, he was enjoying the attention.

"I want you," Bucky whispered then, and looked at Rogers, trying to get home how much he needed this. Rogers didn't move, and for a second Bucky thought he had thought everything all wrong, before Steve gave him a half smile and murmured, "Is that so?"

Bucky bit his lower lip again – this time involuntarily – and smirked as he let his fingers ghost over the hard cock. He was half expecting Rogers to move his hand away, but the blonde man hesitated for a second before turning off the taps again, grabbed Bucky and almost slammed him to the other wall, letting hot water pour over both of them before claiming his lips in a bruising kiss, their bodies aligned and every inch touching.

The kiss was sensual and devouring - just the way Bucky liked it – and Bucky let himself moan into it, screw anyone who was listening outside. After minutes and minutes of the bruising kiss, Steve finally put a bit of distance between them to grab both their hard-ons in one hand and started a slow rhythmic movement under the water. Bucky hissed from the contact, only realizing that it was the first time Rogers was touching his cock, and he didn't disappoint, the touch was electrifying, his longer cock aligned with Bucky's and pulsing minutely. The scene was too much, and he had to close his eyes to stop himself from coming too soon. Fuck, this felt good.

Rogers seemed to have other ideas in his mind. Grabbing the back of Bucky's thigh in his free hand, he made Bucky wrap it around his waist, his heel touching the Captain's wet backside. Quickly catching on with what Rogers wanted, Bucky hesitated. It was a vulnerable position and a bit daring for two guys who were having a mutual hand job – albeit a very good one – in a shower, but decided that to heck with it. He was on board with everything. So he lifted his other leg and did the same, letting Rogers slam him to the wall to support his weight. His back was going to bruise real good, but fuck, he didn't mind.

Rogers let go of their cocks to grab the back of Bucky's other thigh and Bucky had no choice but to circle his arms around the captain's shoulders to make sure he wasn't going to fall. Yeah, he felt exposed, but as also good as hell, especially the way Rogers' arm muscles were bulging to support Bucky's weight as he pushed his hips into Bucky's, starting a new rhythm, this time with no hands.  

"Oh fuck, fuck," Bucky only realize he'd been saying it out loud when Rogers grunted and started to move his hips faster, slamming Bucky into the wall harder and faster. It was the first time Steve had actually voiced his pleasure, and Bucky moaned harder, starting to kiss and suck the neck available to him, even though the pouring water on his head made it hard.

He was close, very very close, and clenched the waist harder with his thighs and dug his heels in deeper than before. He couldn't move his arms for fear of falling, even though Rogers hands, now grabbing his ass, were supporting him well enough, but he couldn't risk it, so he just bit his lips into Rogers' shoulders, partly to release the tension building in the pit of his stomach, partly in retaliation for the bruise he had received earlier.

Rogers seemed to realize Bucky was close for he sped up the rhythm. "Open your eyes," the Captain ordered. Bucky did the moment his orgasm hit him, a wave of pleasure hitting him hard and taking his breath. He rested his forehead on Rogers, their breaths mingling as Bucky came down while muttering words he himself couldn't comprehend.

His body went lax but he tried to held on, watching in fascination as Rogers sped up, all muscles taut an skin red under the hot water.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Bucky said before he could stop himself and Rogers groaned and closed his eyes, his cock pulsing against Bucky's sensitive one, and Bucky moaned, muttering 'fuck' over and over again as Rogers emptied himself on Bucky's stomach and chest.

It took him a few minutes to pull himself together and step back to let Bucky plan his feet on the floor, though he wasn't sure if he could support himself on them. Rogers disengaged himself completely, hesitating for a second before stroking Bucky's stomach, letting the hot water wash away the remaining cum, and Bucky almost moaned, the action hotter than all the things they'd just done, especially with the way the Captain's eyes were glued to his chest.

Bucky opened his mouth to utter something entirely stupid when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Sir," it was Clint's voice and he seemed as displeased as he could get. Bucky didn't dare look at the Captain's face and just managed to turn off the taps.

It must have been something urgent for Clint to do this.

Well, fuck.

**To Be Continued . . .**  

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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